


trust

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [82]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, they're both disasters lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 02:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19862206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: A mail mess-up, it turns out, is all that's needed for things to snowball.





	trust

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "What about this? “You aren't getting it back, dude. It's his weird sex letter now.”"

Hermann nearly bowls Newton over.

There is, of course, the fact that he’s not wearing his glasses, and thus, could not _see_ where he was going, but, regardless, the point is, he nearly bowls Newton over.

“Hey!” Newt exclaims, pinwheels his arms to stay upright. “Careful!”

“Move!” Hermann snaps, and attempts to shove the other aside.

That fails; in part because Hermann flat-out _misses_ , unable to see properly, and also because Newton shifts, blocking him yet again. “What’s the hurry, dude? It’s not even seven in the morning yet.”

“I—” Hermann lets out a puff of an exhale. “The mail-carrier accidentally took a letter that wasn’t meant to be mailed,” he admits grudgingly. “I must’ve put it in the wrong pile, but, well—I really _must_ get it back, it’s of a rather _sensitive_ nature—”

Newton places a hand on his arm. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, “it’ll be fine. You can go back to your place, put on your glasses, and go get it, okay?”

“ _No,_ ” Hermann snaps. “It’s rather time-sensitive—the envelope is a same-day delivery one, and it wasn’t _ready—_ ” he cuts himself off with an irritated sigh and bats Newt’s hands, hovering between them, away from himself.

Newt draws back, expression flickering to annoyance. “What, exactly, is it? You _never_ leave letters unfinished, dude.”

“None of _your_ business,” Hermann snaps, hoping the heat in his cheeks is imagined.

The other’s eyes flick over his face, and a grin tugs at his lips. “Is it _that_ kind of letter?” he questions, and makes an obscene motion.

“Wh—I—no!” he sputters, “I—you—!” Unable to string words together, he resorts, simply, to knocking his cane against the biologist’s knees.

It doesn’t have the intended effect; the other’s eyes widen, as does his grin. “No—wait, it _is_ , isn’t it? Holy _shit,_ Hermann, I was joking, but you—you really _did_ write a sex letter, didn’t you?”

“I did not!” Hermann protests. “I did _no such thing!_ ”

“A _weird_ sex letter, then,” Newton continues, blithely, and ignores his glare.

“I—” Hermann throws up his hands; arguing, now, is useless; Newton, ever incorrigible, will not be convinced otherwise. He checks his watch, then, crossly informs the other, “I’m not going to be able to retrieve it now.”

Newton shrugs. “Whatever, man, it’s _his_ weird sex letter now.”

“It’s not—oh, blast this,” Hermann snaps, turns on his heel, and marches back to his quarters.

* * *

“Dude, you’re not focusing on your work.”

Newton’s hand on his shoulder jolts him out of his thoughts; gaze focusing back on the board in front of him, instead of into the distance, and Hermann bristles, embarassed at being caught; turns to face the other, scowling. “No thanks to _you,_ ” he bites out.

Newton raises a brow. “Dude, we both know that’s bullshit. You’ve been skittish since yesterday. Look, if it’s about the letter—”

Hermann exhales more sharply than intended. “Do _not,_ ” he spits, “presume to know what I am upset about.”

Newton pulls his hand away, expression morphing to triumphance. “So you _are_ upset!” he exclaims. “Anyway, look, dude, if it makes you feel any better, I went and got your letter back for you—pretty interesting, by the way—”

“ _Newton!_ ” Hermann hisses, going stiff, “this is not—you—how _dare_ you—that was _private—!_ ” His vision is blurring—tears, he realises, pricking hotly at his eyes, and—

“—Hermann?”

The sound of the other’s voice is enough to jolt him out of his frozen position; grabbing his cane, he whirls around, marches towards the door; barely aware that he’s even moving.

The door to his quarters slams behind him, and he collapses to the ground, back to the cold metal; drags a trembling hand across his face, sleeve coming away wet with tears.

There’s a knock on his door a few seconds later. “Hermann?”

“Go _away,_ ” he manages, hoarsely. “I don’t wish to speak with you, Newton.”

“Herman, just let me—”

“ _No!_ ”

The force of the word startles him; it’s almost a shout; sounds raw with pain.

There’s a moment of silence, then—

“Alright,” Newt says, quietly. “Just—I’ll leave the letter here. I’m sorry, okay? I though I'd—” he cuts himself off. “Nevermind,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, Hermann.”

Hermann doesn’t reply.

A second later, there’s the sound of footsteps retreating.

* * *

When Hermann finally stops trembling, he drags himself to his feet; then, to the tiny en suit bathroom; splashes water on his face, movements almost sluggish.

Newton’s actions feel like a betrayal; he’d thought, perhaps, that they were close enough for the biologist to know how important his privacy is to him, but—

Well, that’s the issue, isn’t it? Hermann gets his hopes up, and then—

Still, though, he’d though Newton had more respect for him than _that._

He blinks; realises he’s been standing there, staring at his own reflection, for who knows how long. “Get yourself together,” he murmurs, “it isn’t the end of the world anymore.”

He steps away from the basin; makes his way back to the door.

If nothing else, at least he can shred the letter.

When he opens the door, though, the sight that greets him is unexpected.

The letter sits there, on the floor—unopened.

He picks it up with trembling hands, turns it over. Nowhere is there any sign of it having been opened.

The envelope slips from his suddenly slack grip; falls to the ground.

When he enters the lab later, Newton is sitting quietly on his own side. Hermann swallows; nervously tightens his grip on the envelope.

“Newton,” he calls, softly. “I'd—I’d like to speak with you for a moment, please.”

Newt turns around; blinks at him slowly. “I—yeah, sure,” he says. The words sound drained. Hermann frowns.

“I’d like to—to apologise,” he starts, “for—for earlier—”

“I’m sorry, alright—?”

Hermann raises a hand. “Allow me to continue,” he interrupts.

Newt closes his mouth.

“Thank you. As I was saying, I’d like to apologise for my overreaction earlier. I assumed—wrongfully,” he pauses, clears his throat. “I assumed the worst of you. I’m sorry for that. I now see that you were only trying to return the letter to me, and had not, as I had thought, opened it.” He stops, unsure of how to continue.

Newt gives a startled laugh. “Dude, no—I’d never—when I said that it was ‘pretty interesting’, you didn’t let me finish. I was going to say that you’d forgotten to put an address on it.”

“…oh.” Hermann ducks his head. “Yes, well. Like I said, I wasn’t done with it yet. But I am now.”

“Great,” Newt replies. “Um. You can give it to whoever it was meant for, then, I guess.”

Hermann draws in a breath. “Yes. I can.”

Newton nods. “Okay, then.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermann strides over the yellow tape, sidestepping the kaiju viscera on the floor, and makes his way to Newton’s side, and offers the letter.

The biologist stares at him blankly. “Hermann, what are you—?”

“For you,” Hermann says, in a rush; licks his lips nervously. “I—I’ve been meaning to give it to you for some time, but I’ve always backed down from it at the last moment.”

“Hermann..?” Newt asks cautiously, not yet taking the letter.

“Just—take it,” Hermann says. “And—” he bites his lip. “Please don’t feel…obligated after reading it.”

The other finally reaches out; carefully takes the envelope from Hermann, as if afraid he’ll startle him if he moves too quickly.

The next few minutes pass silently; Hermann remains still, almost as if held in place by some enchantment, as Newton opens and reads the letter.

Finally, he sets it down.

He doesn’t say a word, merely stares at Hermann, eyes wide.

“It’s all true,” Hermann says. “There. I’ve said it. Now can you _please_ say something, Newton—?”

“Yes,” the other cuts in. “I— _yes,_ Hermann. Um. I mean,” he laughs awkwardly. “Me too. Uh. Mutual. Oh, fuck, why can’t I just _say_ it—”

Relief crashes over Hermann like a tidalwave, and suddenly, he finds himself grinning.

Just like that, the tension breaks; Newton grins back at him; offers his hand.

Hermann stares at it for a moment, puzzled. “What—?”

“I want to _hold your hand,_ ” Newton says, exasperated, but it’s tinged with fondness.

“Oh,” Hermann says, feeling foolish, and tentatively takes Newt’s hand.

The other grins and gives a squeeze. “You’re _such_ a dork,” he teases.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [pacificrimdyke](https://pacificrimdyke.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
